i'm in pieces, baby, fix me
by hopelessromantic0707
Summary: She really should get up, hail a cab, go home. Right now, though, that seems like far too much work. All she wants to do is sleep.


Title: i'm in pieces, baby, fix me

Rating: G

Disclaimer: _Fairly Legal _does not belong to me.

Spoilers: Through 'Coming Home' (1x07)

Summary: She really should get up, hail a cab, go home. Right now, though, that seems like far too much work. All she wants to do is sleep.

Author's Note: In case anyone is wondering, yes, the title is from Justin Bieber's 'Baby'. Don't judge me :D (YouTube the Chord Overstreet version.) I've been wanting to write something like this for a while. One of the lines in Thursday's episode inspired me to actually sit down and type. As far as I know, we haven't learned any of the backstory details provided here; chalk one up to creative license. Enjoy!

* * *

She's currently using her desk as a pillow, cursing Lauren for calling her in to do a mediation on a Saturday.

The CEO of Reed & Reed's highest-grossing client is going through a messy divorce. That's not the issue here, though. Of course not. That'd be too easy. Said CEO just threatened to run off to Europe with his 9 year old daughter if he wasn't granted joint custody in the settlement.

Add to that the fact that she's so hot her vision is wavy, her throat feels like it's made of sandpaper and she's pretty sure her head is about five seconds from exploding. It's the best day ever. Not.

"Kate?" She raises her head to find Leo looking down at her, concern flashing across his face. For a second, it seems like there are three Leos. Once she blinks, there's only the one and he's holding a steaming mug out to her.

"Mr. and Mrs. Sullivan are waiting in the conference room," he says, stuttering a bit as she greedily grabs for the drink in his hands.

"Have I told you how much I love you?" As soon as she swallows the first sip, she gags. "This is so not coffee," she manages between dry heaves, shoving the mug toward him.

"Theraflu." He has the decency to sound apologetic, so he can keep his job. "Figured you haven't taken any medicine."

"You're right about that, my friend." Standing makes her head swim; taking a deep breath, she fights through the vertigo, heads in the direction of the Sullivans.

"Kate?"

It's all good, Leo. I got this."

"I'm sure you do." He clears his throat, comes up behind her, turns her around. "The conference room is this way, honey."

"Right. I knew that."

Leo watches her go, mutters a 'sweet Jesus' and pulls out his cell. This has the potential to be a disaster- a real one, so much worse than the whole _Firefly _cancellation debacle.

* * *

"You listen to me, sweetheart..."

"Mr. Sullivan. Once again, my name is Kate. I'd greatly appreciate if you used it and refrained from all the cutesy nicknames," she sighs, piling her hair into a bun and sticking a pencil through it.

They've been at this for three hours, are getting nowhere.

"Ok. Here's what we're going to do." She stands, thinking a 'walk-and-talk' is the best way to get these people out of here.

Bad idea. So very, very bad. The world goes kind of spinny, it's 100 degrees in this room and she's pretty sure that double shot white chocolate mocha from this morning is dangerously close to making a reappearance.

"New plan, guys." She claps her hands together, sits down, tries to breathe through her nose. "You're gonna go home, think things over, come back next week."

"But..." Mrs. Sullivan starts with a glare.

"See Leo on your way out. He'll put you on the schedule." She waves toward the door frantically, praying they take the hint.

The door slams as they leave, angry voices carrying through the glass, receding as they head to the elevator.

She really should get up, hail a cab, go home. Right now, though, that seems like far too much work. All she wants to do is sleep.

* * *

"Kate."

"Go away, Leo." She doesn't actually know if that's what she saying, (her words are muffled against her sleeve and her brain is foggy) but she's going to go with it.

There's a laugh, a hand on her hair, Justin's voice in her ear. "Leo's getting lunch."

"Ugh. No food," she says to the table, not opening her eyes. "Feel like crap."

"I can see that." His hand moves to her forehead, moves hair off her face. "Jesus, Kate. Why the hell did you even come in?"

She turns her head, opens her eyes. "Lauren. Big client. She enjoys trying to kill me."

Justin gets up from where he's kneeling beside her, grabs her coat from its heap on the floor, puts it over her shoulders. She feels him lifting her arm, knows what he's about to do.

"Uh uh. No moving." She threads her arms through her coat, shivering. "Moving equals vomit, or at least the threat of it. You jinxed me, you know that? _You sound sick_? Who says that?"

"I'll keep that in mind next time." Before she can put two and two together, he's lifting her out of her chair, putting his arm around her waist, cradling her in his arms.

Her head falls to his shoulder as they leave the conference room; she succumbs to sleep with the _ding _of the elevator in the background.

* * *

Water is hitting her face, running in her eyes, down her shoulders. She flails a little, can't help but jump to the conclusion that she's drowning. It's kind of funny, she thinks. She can't even remember coming home, yet that's where she must be. She lives on a boat, after all. One wrong step and it's bye-bye Kate.

Strong hands cup either side of her face, tilt her head out of the water's path. "Easy. Easy. Just trying to get your fever down."

* * *

When she wakes again, she's on Justin's couch, covered with three blankets, wearing his sweatpants and a thermal pajama top she must've left here without realizing.

She shifts, stretches, falls over the edge with a squeak.

"You awake?" Justin asks, coming in from the kitchen. As he takes in the sight of her sitting on the living room floor, disheveled and surrounded by blankets, the corner of his mouth lifts in an affectionate smile. "Do I want to know?"

"You need a bigger couch," she huffs, wrapping a blanket around herself, eyeing the offending piece of furniture with disdain.

"That's my first purchase when I get my bonus next month. A new couch, just for you."

She laughs.

He passes something to her; when she feels warmth seeping into her hands, she glances down to find her New York Mets mug (she's an NYU grad), filled to the brim with an unidentifiable liquid. (Wait. When did she leave that here? God, she really has to start keeping better track of her stuff.)

She goes to take a sip, stops, holds the mug away from her. "It's not Theraflu, is it?"

"No. That stuff tastes like battery acid. It's just green tea with honey."

It's nice to know he remembers her 'Kate takes a sick day' drink of choice. It's Justin, so she shouldn't have expected anything less, but everything is so screwed up between them at the moment; anyone else would probably leave her to dry-heave herself to death, alone, on her boat.

She's crying now, the tears cool against her cheeks.

"Kate? He lifts her chin, makes her look at him. "What hurts?"

"I thought you couldn't do this anymore," she manages. "So why are you being so nice to me, making sure my brain doesn't become soup, bringing me tea, letting me stay here? I've pretty much ruined your life, right?" Her chest constricts as she finishes; does she really want the answer to that question?

"Hey, hey. Calm down." He takes her drink, sets in on the coffee table. His hands rest on her shoulders, slide up and down her arms. "You could never ruin my life. Ever." There's a pause. "Unless you get Leo to hack into my savings account, steal all my money, run off to Paris."

She knows he's trying to get a laugh out of her, but it only makes her cry harder, bury her face in his chest. She'd minored in French, had grand visions of working at the American embassy, never coming home.

That seems like a lifetime ago, they were such different people, but he remembers.

She wishes they could be those people again, the Justin and Kate who ran in Central Park every Saturday rain or shine, did the Times crossword, finished each other's sentences. She wants that. So much. But life doesn't come with a rewind button.

"I didn't mean to screw everything up, Justin. Really. I don't know how it happened," she hiccups.

He holds her close, whispers against her hair, "It wasn't a one-man job, Kate. Trust me." Letting go of her, he runs a hand over his face. "All I want is for you to stop running and work with me. That's all I meant the other day."

"Oh." It comes out raspy, a combination of the tears and her sore throat. She sits on the floor again, exhaustion making her limbs heavy.

Her eylids flutter, she can feel his arms around her, moving her.

* * *

Then the world is soft; she's in his bed. He's saying her name, sitting her up, helping her swallow pills.

"Get some sleep," he murmurs, laying her against the pillows. "I'll be here if you need me."

For the first time in a week, she believes that's true.


End file.
